


Lost

by KatieComma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But he's not currently underage, But it gets better I promise, Discussions of Stiles being recently underage, Feelings, Fluff, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vague Discussion of Past Trauma, alpha!Derek, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Stiles is at a party, wandering around and feeling lost.Derek shows up to gather the pack, but tells Stiles to stay behind.Angst and drama ensues.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 20
Kudos: 364





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you BlackVultures for reading it through and helping me figure out the awkward bit!!! <3

Stiles lingered in the hallway as the party went on around him. He’d been so excited! Summer before college was closing in, he’d just turned a manly-feeling 18, and he’d seen so much shit over the last two years it would have blown anyone’s hair back. He’d seen monsters and magic and survived battles. And because of those things he was an enigma, a mystery, he was interesting! He’d walked into the party so sure that the allure would pour off him in waves, all the girls and boys ready to gather around, drawn to him like moths.

And yet, they’d walked in, and everyone was drunk, and no one had noticed him. He was still gangly, wiry, awkward Stiles despite his milestone birthday, and his experience with the supernatural.

And yes he’d seen a lot of cool badass crazy shit. But he couldn’t actually talk about any of it. 

So he lingered on the edges of conversation. People would try to talk to him, and words would go out of his head too quickly, his brain racing, trying to guess the right thing to say.

Scott was off making out with Allison somewhere. Erica and Boyd were probably doing the same. Isaac was flirting with some boy in the corner, looking like they were also headed the way of sexy times. And Stiles just kept feeling more and more the outsider with every minute that went by.

So he was in the hallway, leaned against the wall, sipping flat beer from a red solo cup when the front door opened, sending a wave of cool air over him.

“Who’s that?” One of the girls waiting for the bathroom asked.

“I dunno but he looks like he’s definitely in college,” another girl answered.

Stiles glanced to the front door to find Derek standing dramatically, outlined against the night, leather jacket framing his stiff shoulders perfectly. What a total asshole, looking so fucking hot when Stiles was having such a shitty night.

And then something occurred to him. He dropped his cup on the little hallway table and rushed to Derek. “Hey man, what’s up?” He lowered his voice and looked around conspiratorially. “Something going on? Something up? Something of the supernatural persuasion need some-”

Derek cut him off. “Where’s the pack? I can smell them.” He didn’t even let Stiles answer before he went off into the house.

“What do you need them for?” Stiles asked.

“Isaac!” Derek called across the living room.

Isaac had been about to move in for the kill… well… for the kiss anyway. He’d been doing the perfect, charming sexy lean-in when Derek had called his name. 

Isaac turned toward them, let his head fall back and rolled his eyes so petulantly Stiles had to stifle a laugh. Also he’d had a beer or two and was feeling a little giddy, which didn’t help giggling matters.

Derek motioned with his head to the front door, leaving no interpretation outside of: “we’re leaving. Now.” How very wolf-dad of him.

Stiles giggled again, and followed Derek toward the stairs.

“Ok, so where’s the fire?” Stiles asked as he followed Derek up the steps. “C’mon Der! Stop being all broody sexy werewolf and tell me what’s going on? Imminent danger?” He sounded way too excited at the prospect.

Derek stopped at the top of the stairs, flared his nostrils and breathed in deeply. He opened the door directly on his left, and flipped on the light. “We’re leaving,” he said.

As Derek stepped out of the way, Stiles caught a glimpse of Boyd’s extremely pretty backside. But: woah! Naked friends! Not ok.

“Dude!” Stiles covered his eyes. “Didn’t need to see that.”

“Then you should leave,” Derek said, “cause Scott’s up next.”

Stiles just had time to turn away as Derek opened the next door. A sexy moan drifted from Scott’s mouth and out into the hall. Stiles covered his ears. “Dude! This is a total invasion of everyone’s privacy.”

Derek said something to Scott, and stomped back down the hallway toward the stairs. Stiles followed. Isaac waited dutifully at the still open front door, looking really annoyed.

“Ok, so what’s the plan?” Stiles asked. “Where are we headed?”

Derek walked out of the house without answering.

“You’re being more quiet than normal,” Stiles said, joining him. “Can you give me a ride to whatever epic disaster awaits us? I’ve had a few beers and-”

“Stay here Stiles,” Derek said, not cruelly, but it still hurt, before he walked toward his car.

“What?” Stiles asked, feeling stunned.

Issac looked at him apologetically on the way by.

“I said: stay here,” Derek repeated without looking back.

But Stiles was stubborn and followed. “No,” he said. “I can help. Whatever it is Der, let me help.”

Derek turned just as he reached the Camaro and shot a look at Issac, who backed off and went to wait by Scott’s car.

Derek’s face fell a little from stern Alpha to sad human. “There’s nothing going on Stiles,” he said softly, “but this isn’t right. They need to be more disciplined than this. Coming out here and acting like idiots and-“ He shot a look in Issac’s direction, knowing he was listening. “Trying to sleep with humans just for fun.”

Isaac kicked bitterly in the dirt.

“It’s reckless,” Derek said, “we can’t afford to be reckless.”

“Can I pretend?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s face creased in confusion. “Pretend what?”

Stiles felt a wave of sadness come over him suddenly. He really didn’t fit anywhere. No one at the party wanted to talk to him, and he didn’t fit in with the pack either. He suddenly felt very alone.

Derek took a step toward him, his eyes widening a little, hand held up like he wanted to pat Stiles’ arm. “Stiles, are you… ok?”

Stiles swallowed hard to fight the lump coming up in his throat. “Can we pretend there’s something… that you need help with something? Research? Whatever?”

Derek still looked confused.

Stiles glanced at Issac, hating werewolf hearing for about the zillionth time. “I wanna leave. But I don’t wanna go home,” he admitted quietly, sounding so small to his own ears.

Isaac’s feet stopped moving in the dirt, and he didn’t make a noise.

Derek’s mouth twitched into almost a smile, though his eyes were still sad, before he nodded so lightly that Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the movement or not.

Just then Erica’s heels clacked angrily down the front step, followed by the rest of the pack.

Derek put his Alpha face and voice back on. “Go home!” He commanded.

“Are you serious?” Erica asked, still putting her shirt on. “I thought this was something serious.”

“You want to have sex? Go ahead,” Derek said, “but not somewhere like this. Go somewhere private. And be more careful picking people up until you’re more in control.” The last was for Isaac.

Isaac kicked more dirt.

“Come on,” Derek said more softly to Stiles as he got into the Camaro.

Stiles slid into the passenger seat, his head spinning a little.

Derek peeled out, racing down the street, shifting gears with precision. 

He could sense that Derek wanted to say something, could hear the soft opening of his mouth before he reconsidered each time and closed it again. Just as he took a deep breath to actually speak, Stiles cut him off.

“Please don’t Derek,” Stiles said, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. The warble in his voice was strong, making the “r” in Derek’s name squeak. He coughed a little and continued. “I don’t want your pity, or your speech about what I should be doing with my life. Please just… I just…”

“Ok,” Derek said, shifting gears again and speeding up, heading in the direction of the loft.

They didn’t say anything else, and Stiles leaned his forehead against the cool window and watched the streets roll by.

Derek filled the glass of water for a second time and handed it back to Stiles. “One more,” he said.

“I don’t think I can fit anymore liquid in my body,” Stiles complained.

“One more,” Derek repeated.

Stiles stuck his tongue out but took the glass and started drinking it. He wandered to the big two storey windows that looked out of Derek’s loft. The moon was only half full, but still bright and shining in.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, without looking at Derek.

He heard Derek move behind him; courtesy, because Derek could move silently when he wanted to. He came close, but not too close. “Do you want me to take you home?” He asked.

Stiles shook his head and felt that awful, stupid, depressing sadness climb up from his stomach through his chest and into his throat again. Why was he so upset? Why couldn’t he just forget about it?

“Won’t your dad be looking for you?” Derek asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Told him if I wasn’t home that I’d be at Scott’s tonight,” Stiles said. He took another sip of water, hoping it would wash away the lump in his throat that just wouldn’t dissolve.

“You can take the bed,” Derek said.

Stiles felt suddenly reckless and vulnerable and angry and sad and every emotion all at once and he had no way to get rid of them. He couldn’t wolf-out and run through the woods howling at the moon. He couldn’t go fuck his girlfriend and/or boyfriend. He couldn’t even get in his Jeep and drive too fast.

He turned and set the half full glass of water down on the big table near the window. Stiles always thought of it like the big tables in movies about WWII where they spread the maps out and had the little poles for moving the forces around Europe. Similar stuff happened on that big “planning table,” just on a smaller scale and with more old dusty books about monsters.

Derek was standing close, looking at him with that worried expression, like he wanted to reach out and take Stiles’ pain. But this wasn’t a pain that could be sucked up with werewolf magic.

Stiles gave into years of sexual repression and attraction, the buzz of beer in his skull, and the need to do something reckless; he stepped forward and mashed his lips against Derek’s. He grabbed for Derek’s shoulders, waiting for passion to carry him away, or for Derek to throw him into a wall, he’d take either option.

Instead Derek pushed him away calmly, and softly with firm pressure and a shaking head.

“No Stiles, not like this,” Derek said.

Stiles wanted to scream. If he was going to be rejected he wanted Derek to treat him harshly or say mean things so he’d have a reason to feel the way he did. Or he wanted Derek to push him away hard with disgust, maybe knocking him against the table so the pain would numb him. He didn’t want soft hands and kindness.

“Not like this?” Stiles gulped, his brain catching up to what those words meant. It meant there was hope for some kind of… something between them… maybe. “Not like this?” He asked again, looking up into Derek’s face.

Derek looked destroyed; emotion written all over his face in a way Stiles had never seen before. His mouth was turned down, and slightly open, adorable little bunny teeth showing through the parted lips. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows drawn up. He looked more vulnerable than Stiles felt.

“Not like this?” Stiles repeated again, more demanding.

“You’ve been… you’re drunk.”

“No, no I’m not,” Stiles said. “Just a little buzzed.”

“Under the influence,” Derek said. “And you’re… it’s too… I can’t.” He turned away, letting go of Stiles and walking across the loft.

Stiles felt naked for the cold left in the wake of Derek’s warm hands.

“I’m what? It’s too what?” Stiles demanded, happy to have something to focus on that took his attention away from the absolute despair trying to eat his body away from the inside.

“You’re too young Stiles,” Derek growled, turning toward him, looking desperate, like a cornered animal.

Stiles wasn’t afraid. Now it was just bargaining. “I’m not! I turned eighteen last week. You were at the party, you ate the cake.”

“Yeah, and two weeks ago you were seventeen,” Derek replied. “Somehow from one day to the next it becomes ok?” He shook his head. “No.”

“Derek,” Stiles said it softly, walking close again.

“Don’t,” Derek said.

“Don’t what?” Stiles asked, getting close enough to touch, but not reaching out.

Derek looked angry as he met Stiles’ eye. Angry, but afraid too. “Don’t say my name like that.”

Stiles smiled, and repeated his name, soft again. He took another step into Derek’s space, tasting the air he breathed out in almost panicky puffs.

“Stiles,” Derek sounded like he was trying to protest even as he put his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “Stiles.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, moving his face close to Derek’s, their lips almost touching.

Derek surged forward and kissed him hard, until Stiles’ opened his mouth and their tongues met. Derek’s hands slid from Stiles’ shoulders up to hold his cheeks tenderly.

Derek pulled back suddenly, but then moved close again and put their foreheads together. “Not like this,” he repeated.

“Why not?” Stiles asked, letting his hands take hold of Derek’s henley, gripping tight.

“You don’t taste right,” Derek said. “It’s sour, like stale beer.”

“Oh,” Stiles hadn’t even thought of that. “I can… brush my teeth?”

Derek shook his head, forehead rolling against Stiles’. “Won’t work,” he breathed, “it’s in your blood.”

After having every emotion running through his whole body like electricity for the last hour or so, Stiles felt drained.

“That’s ok,” Stiles said, “I’m actually pretty wiped. Can I… you said…”

“You can have the bed,” Derek said.

“Or… _we_ can have the bed?” Stiles asked, twisting Derek’s shirt tighter in his fingers.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was all warning.

“No, no,” Stiles soothed, “not like that. I just…” He forced himself to loosen his grip, tentatively pressing his hands against the body underneath the shirt and letting those hands travel around until he was circling Derek’s waist. He couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say; Stiles Stilinski, speechless. Probably a first time ever.

“Ok,” Derek breathed softly as though he could read the jumble of thoughts running through Stiles’ brain.

“Ok?” Stiles asked hopefully.

Derek backed off, and was smiling. Another first! 

Derek nodded. “But I’m getting you something to sleep in,” he said.

“I can just sleep in my boxers,” Stiles offered.

“That is a terrible idea,” Derek said, looking Stiles up and down hungrily.

“Oh. Ok,” Stiles agreed.

Derek went off to the dresser in the corner and started digging through drawers.

Stiles walked to the bed and plopped down on the edge, so tired he weaved back and forth a little. “You know, it’s actually super weird that your bed is just… out here in the middle of the living room, right? Especially as a werewolf. Like, when you sleep with people, won’t the pack know when they come over?”

Derek tossed a henley and a pair of sweatpants to Stiles. “I don’t sleep with people,” Derek said simply, walking to the other side of the bed and starting to change into his own sleepwear.

“You don’t sleep with people, ever? Or you just go to their place instead of here?” Stiles asked as he stood up and kept his back to Derek while he changed. The last thing he needed was a desperate hard-on before he crawled into bed with Derek Hale when he was too tired to do anything about it.

There was a pause, clothing rustling.

Stiles didn’t fill the silence, just finished changing.

When Stiles turned around, Derek was watching him.

“I don’t sleep with people ever,” Derek confirmed, before he pulled back the blankets like they owed him money.

Stiles crawled into the bed and it sucked him in like a big wonderful marshmallow. “Oh my god your bed is awesome! How come you never said your bed is awesome?” Stiles asked. “I would have insisted on movie nights and sleepovers.”

“That’s why,” Derek said with a grin. He was about to crawl in too, when he seemed to remember something and walked away. 

Stiles reached out toward him feebly. “You promised!”

Derek rolled his eyes but kept walking. “I didn’t promise,” he said, “but I’m not going far.”

Derek shut all the lights off, switch by switch and returned to Stiles’ side of the bed with the half full glass of water. “Drink the rest. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Stiles sat up enough to drink the water before he set the glass down on the floor beside the headboard so he wouldn’t knock it over in the morning. “Ok! Ok! I’m done! Now come on!”

Derek let out a huff that Stiles thought may have actually been a laugh. It warmed him to the core.

The covers lifted, letting in a gust of cool air before Derek was there to fill the space and warm it up again.

Stiles rolled over to him, and every muscle in Derek tensed when their bodies met. Stiles ignored it and threw his arm around the big marble-stiff man next to him. “Settle down sourwolf, it’s just cuddling,” he grumbled into Derek’s chest, where he’d stuffed his face. “Now calm down already.”

Unbelievably, Derek obeyed, curling one arm around Stiles’ back and pulling him in tighter.

“You’d better not throw up on me,” Derek warned.

“I didn’t have that much to drink,” Stiles groused in return.

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek mumbled as they let the bed and each other drag them down into sleep.

Stiles was surrounded by Derek: the earthy smell of him mixed with that stupid “manly scented” deodorant he wore that could never entirely mask the smell of the woods that hung on him; the arm wrapped tightly around his back; Stiles’ arm wrapped around Derek’s middle, while he pressed his face into his shoulder.

Stiles breathed deep and exhaled, his eyes rolling up in his head even though they were still closed.

“How do you feel this morning?” Derek rumbled softly, the sound passed from his chest directly into Stiles’ body where they were pressed together.

Stiles could get used to Derek’s waking up voice; it was unguarded and soft and kind and totally adorably gravely with sleep.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, a hint of concern creeping into his voice, his muscles tensing a little.

Stiles had been so distracted by Derek’s epic morning voice that he hadn’t even replied. “I’m good, I feel good.”

“Told you the second glass of water would help,” Derek said, relaxing again.

“Yeah, it was totally that second glass of water,” Stiles said sarcastically, tightening his arm around Derek, “or it was the fact that I wasn’t drunk, like I told you. Just buzzed. No big deal.”

Derek’s shirt was moist from where Stiles had been breathing on it all night, and he moved back a little to look up at Derek’s face. His morning face was even cuter than his morning voice. Unguarded, relaxed, mouth not frowning yet, eyebrows at ease, hair a total mess. His eyes were closed, and he yawned wide, his bunny teeth creating the best possible visual in the wide open almost-roar of a werewolf’s mouth.

Stiles giggled, he couldn’t help it. He pressed his face into Derek’s side to try to stifle the laughter but it didn’t work.

Instead Derek arched up off the bed and let out a little yelp. “Hey! That tickles!” He accused.

Stiles fell back to the other side of the bed, still laughing. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Derek collapsed back to the bed, let his head flop over to the side and smiled. There were even teeth involved, lips opening for them to shine through. And it was so heartbreakingly beautiful that Stiles stopped laughing immediately. He’d never seen Derek smile like that before. Not once. Anytime he laughed there was a tinge of dark humour and cruelty in it. But this… this was Derek actually being happy, and it simultaneously warmed Stiles to the core and made him hurt.

Stiles smiled in return, and shimmied closer in bed, putting a hand to Derek’s cheek.

The smile faded.

“No, no, no!” Stiles protested. “Do that again.”

“Do what?” Derek asked. “I’m not letting you tickle me again.” And the eyebrows were awake; one of them raised suspiciously.

“Smile,” Stiles said simply.

“I am smiling,” Derek ground out. And he was, but it was a closed lipped smile that felt tense.

“No, the real one that you were doing just a minute ago,” Stiles whined. “Do that again.”

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes before he bared his teeth in something more like a grimace. Like that scene in Beauty and the Beast when the Beast tries to smile and it’s all aggressive predator teeth and no joy at all.

“Ugh you’re the worst,” Stiles said with a slap to Derek’s chest.

“No, you’re the worst,” Derek replied matter-of-factly. “You smell awful. Go take a shower.”

“Well good morning to you too mister sexy werewolf that I’m in bed with,” Stiles grumbled.

Derek leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead. The forehead! Like his mother had done when he was a kid! “Good morning,” Derek said softly against his skin before he laid back down. “But seriously, you’re sweating out that beer from last night and it smells awful.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles replied. “I’ll just…” He rolled out of bed and walked toward the spiral staircase that led upstairs to where Derek’s bathroom was. He’d had to shower off blood and mud and any number of other gross things in that shower to avoid explaining things to his father over the last few years. He knew exactly where it was, and where all the soap was.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice carried to him when he was halfway up the stairs.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, turning just as a set of clothes hit him in the face.

“You can leave the other ones in the hamper in the bathroom,” Derek said.

The shower filled Stiles with unease. Despite the comfortable banter during their waking up, he wasn’t sure what came next. Derek had kissed him on the forehead. What did that mean? Did Derek think he’d just thrown himself at him because he was drunk the night before? Not that he had been drunk, which he’d stated clearly several times and with no slurring.

He took his time rinsing whatever smells there were away from his body, soaping generously everywhere and scrubbing his scalp thoroughly with Derek’s shampoo. He wanted to make sure he didn’t smell gross. He wanted to smell appetizing.

He dried quickly, nervous about what was going to happen when he went downstairs, before he pulled on the clothes Derek had handed him: a worn grey tee and another pair of sweatpants.

He wandered downstairs to find Derek standing and looking out the window, still dressed comfortably in what he’d slept in. 

Stiles snuck up behind him, with no illusion that Derek couldn’t hear him, and wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist. His heart beat so hard he thought it might stutter its way up his throat and out onto the floor.

“Stiles,” Derek warned, his voice sounding a little sad as he ducked his head.

“Yup? Right here. Present and accounted for. Stiles Stilinski reporting for duty.”

Derek turned in his arms, took a firm grip on each of his forearms and pushed them down and away. “We need to talk.”

“Sure, fire away,” Stiles said nervously.

Derek let go of him and walked back toward the couch. Stiles followed, and flopped down onto the cushions, crossing his legs under him. Derek sat on the coffee table across from him. The look on his face was stern.

The clothing stuck to the bits of Stiles’ skin that he hadn’t gotten dry all the way, and he felt a little chafed all over, his skin prickling with discomfort.

Stiles broke the silence. “What’s up?"

“Are you ok?” Derek asked, his face going soft, eyes wide and imploring.

It was the last thing Stiles had been expecting. He’d expected Derek to tell him that last night hadn’t been right, Stiles was just drunk and wasn’t thinking, there was nothing between them, and on and on and on. Instead, this concern. It made the emotions from the night before wake up inside Stiles and surge in his gut.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered out.

Derek’s lips drew out into a hard line, his jaw tightening before he let out a breath and relaxed again.

“I hate that I can’t lie to you guys,” Stiles groused, letting his knees bounce and tangling his fingers nervously in his lap. “It’s the worst, you know that?”

“Ok, you don’t want to talk about that, let’s change the subject,” Derek said sternly, obviously unpleased. “Last night.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“I know,” Derek said, “but we still need to talk about it now that you’re completely ‘not drunk.’”

“Talk about what?” Stiles asked.

“About whether or not you’re sure that you…” Derek looked suddenly self conscious, looking down at his hands which were folded calmly between his knees; the opposite of Stiles’ fidgety fingers that were criss crossing and tapping at each other.

“I’m sure,” Stiles said. “I was too scared to ask you before. But I guess a little liquid courage…”

Derek looked up, his lip quirking toward a grin.

“I wasn’t drunk!” Stiles said with a laugh. “But yeah.” He leaned forward, feeling a little bold, and surrounded Derek’s calm hands with his wobbly ones. He rocked forward into Derek’s space. “I’ve wanted you for a long time Derek. Thought about you for a long time.”

Derek snorted. “A long time,” he said under his breath.

“Years actually,” Stiles admitted. 

Derek turned his hands, and clasped Stiles’ fingers in his own. It made Stiles hands stop moving; eased the need to fidget somehow.

“If this is… if we’re going to try this out,” Derek licked his lips but it didn’t seem to provide any moisture. “I’ve gotta make sure… it’s not just… sex for you right?”

Stiles shook his head. He knew Derek’s history, knew how hard it was for him to let people in, to trust them, after the ways he’d been betrayed.

“Ok, so if it’s not just sex…” he met Stiles’ eye, and his face went from vulnerable to serious. “Then we need to be honest with each other right?”

“Agreed,” Stiles said joyfully. “Honesty is the key in every relationship. Holy shit are we going to be in a relationship?”

“So if we’re agreeing to be honest,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles’ hands, “you need to tell me what happened last night.”

Stiles flopped back onto the couch and let go of Derek’s hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Derek, it was that he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to sound petulant and foolish and make Derek reconsider this whole thing. Age had been one of Derek’s hangups the night before, and Stiles was afraid of coming across like a whiny teenager who didn’t feel like he fit in. He was afraid it would scare Derek off.

Derek sighed, clasping his hands together again without Stiles there to hold on to. “I don’t… I’m not good at opening up Stiles,” he admitted. “You may have noticed I’m a little bit of a-“

“Sourwolf?” Stiles offered, trying to lighten the situation.

Derek smiled fondly. “Yeah, you could say that. Pretty apt description.” He ducked his head while he said the next part. “But I need to be open with the person I’m… with. And I need them to be honest with me, right from the start.”

“No secrets,” Stiles said softly. 

Derek looked up suddenly as though he’d been slapped, his face open and vulnerable in a way Stiles had never seen. Derek nodded. “No secrets."

Stiles’ brain wandered to Kate Argent, and all the secrets and lies surrounding her relationship with Derek. The way she had lied to him and hid things and in the end had taken advantage of his trust to destroy his entire world, leaving him alive but broken inside. Derek would never admit to as much, but Stiles knew the story, and he could see it in Derek. In the way Derek didn’t trust, didn’t open up. And now his mind connected why this little lie of Stiles’, this little thing he wouldn’t talk about, would be so worrying to Derek.

“I went to that party so excited,” Stiles admitted, letting himself sink further back into Derek’s couch, wearing Derek’s clothes, smelling like Derek from the shower. “I’m an adult now, and I’m a smart and interesting guy, you know?”

Derek just nodded, a sad smile on his face.

“And I was surrounded by all these people and I couldn’t… I’m such a… everybody had somebody, you know? I was in this house full of people and I felt alone. Scott hasn’t really been the same since Allison. And even before all that got started, the wolf thing. Put up a barrier between us, you know? And Boyd and Erica… and then Issac’s just got no problem finding someone. And there I was wandering around and trying to make conversation and I just… felt like an idiot. And I wanted to scream about all the cool shit we’ve done, you know?” Stiles could feel tears threatening. “All the times I’ve helped save people. The cool stuff we’ve seen. The things… but I can’t. Nobody will ever know…” His throat swelled with emotion. And he hated it, wanted to tear it out and throw it across the room. He swallowed hard.

“ _I_ know what you’ve done,” Derek said softly. There was no pity in his face, it was sincere and grateful. And a sudden frustration surged in Stiles when he thought about what happened next.

“And then you showed up,” he tried not to spit it out bitterly, but it happened anyway.

Derek’s jaw tightened.

“And you come storming in looking like a fucking action hero in your stupid sexy leather jacket, grab all the wolves, and just leave. And when I ask to come along, to be helpful… when you told me to stay. I wanted to scream Derek. I wanted to punch you in your stupid pretty face. I wanted to burn something down.”

Derek’s chest heaved a little, like the breath he took in was laboured, but he didn’t make a sound.

“I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere,” Stiles said. “Like nobody wanted me around.”

Silence filled the room, a heavy weight.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Derek said. “I wanted you… to have something normal. To just have fun.”

“There’s no normal for me anymore,” Stiles said, but he smiled sadly when he said it. Somehow talking about it all made him feel lighter. “And I think I’m ok with it. As long as I can belong somewhere, you know?”

“I think I do actually,” Derek shifted forward on the coffee table until their knees were knocking together. He took Stiles’ hands back into his own. “For a long time I felt alone. Outcast.”

Stiles hadn’t even thought about that, but Derek would understand exactly; family destroyed, out in the world on his own. At least Stiles always had his dad to go home to.

Derek’s fingers trembled a little, and his thumbs rubbed absently on the backs of Stiles’ hands.

“Not anymore,” Stiles said. “We have the pack now.” It was the first time Stiles had considered himself an actual part of the pack. But somehow he felt initiated now.

Derek smiled. “Yeah. We do.”

“Come here sourwolf,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s hands and tugging.

Derek went to his knees in front of the couch and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Stiles’ middle. Stiles rested his arms on Derek’s shoulders, chin on his head and breathed deep, feeling something dark clear from inside him when he exhaled. 

It was awkward, Stiles’ legs still crossed, his knees pressing into Derek’s chest. But they stayed like that, just holding each other, and didn’t move except to breath or rub softly at each other through layers of soft cotton.

Derek pressed his face tighter into Stiles’ chest and breathed deep. “Mmmm. You smell like me.”

“You like it?” Stiles asked. “My eau de Derek?”

Derek laughed silently, but Stiles felt it ripple through his whole body. “It’s good, but it makes it hard to smell _you_. And I miss that.”

“Your fault,” Stiles said, “you’re the one who made me shower.”

Derek sat back a little and looked up. Stiles let him move enough that they could see each other, but refused to remove the arms circling Derek’s neck. His restless fingers toyed absently with the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck.

“Do you… are we… really going to do this?” Derek asked, the awe and disbelief in his eyes floored Stiles. He’d expected to be the unsure, nervous one. But he felt calm and steady as Derek looked up at him like he wanted direction.

“I’m game,” Stiles said. “And I’m not drunk anymore.”

Derek’s lips threatened a smile. “I knew you were drunk.”

“It was a joke!” Stiles laughed. “I was just buzzed. And yes, I definitely think we should do this. This whole thing. All the marbles. The whole kit and kaboodle. Whatever it is the kids are saying these days. Go steady? Be my bae? Am I even using that one right?”

“Stiles?” Derek smiled wide, that truly happy smile from first thing that morning, the one with bunny teeth.

“Yeah Derek?”

“Shut up,” he replied affectionately.

“Nope. Never gonna happen,” Stiles replied.

Derek put his hands to the back of Stiles’ neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It started gentle; lips meeting softly and shifting to fit together, breath tickling upper lips. And then Derek opened his lips a little and kissed wetly against Stiles’ closed mouth. Stiles matched his movements, and it was awkward while they found a rhythm. Until Stiles turned his head just so and they fit together perfectly.

Derek pressed up taller on his knees and opened his mouth more, an invitation so blatant that Stiles slipped his tongue inside immediately. Derek returned the gesture and their tongues traded wetly back and forth while they panted into each other’s mouths.

Derek pulled back, pressing one last kiss to Stiles’ wet mouth before he opened his eyes. He looked hungry, but the wolf was nowhere to be seen, eyes all Derek-green. “There it is,” he said softly, his voice rough.

“There what is?” Stiles asked, not even sure what he was asking, or what the question was already because his body was high on arousal.

“There you are,” Derek leaned close, licking at Stiles’ lips. “Tastes like you smell.” He made a whining noise in the back of his throat before adding: “it’s so good Stiles. Better than I imagined.”

Stiles felt his heart race and took a shaky breath.

Derek kissed at his cheek, then his jawline and down his throat. The kisses were quick and frantic things, a lick thrown in here or there. “I Imagined it so many times,” he admitted. “Thought about you too much.”

Derek’s hands snuck under the t-shirt, sliding it up. The feel of Derek’s fingers on his skin sent a ripple of excitement through Stiles that felt like electrical current in the more erogenous zones of his body. His body loose and pliant, Derek easily pushed his arms up and slipped the shirt off, dropping it beside them on the couch.

The silence between them was heavy with too many things, and the emotions in Stiles’ gut threatened to overtake him again, so in defence, his mouth just started talking. “Hey, that’s a nice shirt, I was really enjoying my time in that shirt.”

“It’s mine. I only lent it to you. I’m taking it back,” Derek growled as he met Stiles’ eye and then looked down at his naked torso.

Stiles felt his body colour red at the attention, the flush rising to the surface of his skin as the embarrassment took over. Derek was this perfect Superman-looking dude, with perfect muscles and perfect skin. Stiles’ wiry freckled body was nothing in comparison. He wanted to grab the shirt and put it back on. He’d never had sex, but maybe it was something they could manage pretty much fully clothed.

“No,” Derek said softly.

Stiles met his eye reluctantly. “No what?” He asked, feeling his arousal wane as his embarrassment waxed.

Derek took Stiles’ cheeks in his hands. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“That obvious, huh?” Stiles asked nervously.

Derek leaned close and kissed him softly in a familiar way, as though they’d kissed a thousand times before and would keep doing it for the rest of the their lives. “I can smell it,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”

“I’ve just… it’s…” Stiles faltered. Once again, playing the juvenile card seemed like a sure fire way to end the whole thing. But: no secrets. “I’ve never done this before… with anyone… else… ever… before.” He felt the colour intensify, his blush getting darker.

“Really?” Derek asked. “Not… ever?”

Stiles felt his embarrassment fade a little, and he narrowed his eyes. “Gee, thanks for making me feel less weird about it.”

Derek smiled, that good happy smile again. “No, I just mean… why not?”

Stiles shrugged and fell back into the cushions. Derek put his hands on Stiles knees, rubbing softly. “No opportunity man, what do you think? I’ve been trying to give up my v-card for years.”

“People are insane,” Derek said, his hands travelling from knee to thigh. He reached the edge of the sweatpants and looked up at Stiles for permission, his eyes hungry. “Their loss.”

Stiles let his fingers drift down to Derek’s and played with his fingers. “You’re not… it doesn’t make you… I dunno think that I’m-”

“It’s perfect,” Derek said. “I love the idea that you’re all mine.”

“Well that’s a little possessive,” Stiles said with a grin.

Derek ducked his head. “It’s a wolf thing,” he explained.

“You don’t think I know that?” Stiles asked. “Me? The king of research who has a best friend that’s a werewolf? I’m going into this totally and fully prepared. I’ve done all my reading. Aced all the tests.”

“And you’re still here?” Derek laughed, meeting Stiles’ eye again.

“Oh yeah, I am definitely still here,” Stiles confirmed enthusiastically. “And the possessiveness is actually really hot. Just don’t let it get out of hand, ok big guy?”

Derek nodded.

“Oh, and also: take off your shirt already,” Stiles said, tugging at the offending garment.

Derek let him pull it off and toss it onto the couch with the other shirt.

Derek’s hands were still hovering at the waistband of Stiles’ sweatpants, like he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

“What are you waiting for?” Stiles asked, tugging Derek’s fingers up to touch his skin.

The moment Derek’s palm flattened against Stiles’ stomach, Derek let out a soft groan. He slid his hands up and down from stomach to chest to shoulders several times before wrapping his hands around Stiles and pulling him close, mashing face into chest.

Stiles body pulsed with want and excitement at the way Derek pressed against him: hot skin on skin. Stiles’ hands found their way into Derek’s hair, pulling a little and massaging.

“Stiles,” Derek panted before he leaned down a licked a long meandering line from bellybutton up to collarbone.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Stiles asked, trying not to let his voice squeak too much, and failing miserably.

“I know…” Derek licked at Stiles’ neck. “You don’t…” Another lick from neck to chest. “Have much… experience…” He stopped and looked up. “If you want to move slow. We can start slow.” He bent down and took one of Stiles’ nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly and flicking his tongue across.

“Woah!” Stiles moaned, hips pressing forward and arching his body away from the couch.

Derek pulled back and grinned, all predator.

“No, no, I am so 100% on board the sex train,” Stiles said, making a train horn sound. “But if you keep doing stuff like that I’m just going to come in my pants.”

“Can’t have that,” Derek smiled and flicked his tongue briefly across the other nipple.

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to think unsexy thoughts, but not a single one came to mind, his entire being focused down to the little point of his nipple.

Derek moved on to kissing up and down Stiles’ torso.

“Ok, so now I’m getting the appeal of this bed in the living room thing,” Stiles said boldly as he looked over at the big bed, sheets still rumpled and thrown aside from them sharing it. “Cause we could be over there in no time. Lying down together. Maybe naked?”

“Definitely naked,” Derek confirmed between kisses before he stood up suddenly, grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him to his feet. He gathered Stiles into his arms, their chests pressed together and kissed him again, their lips parting immediately for each other. Stiles found that tilt to his head right away, like a piece falling into place that he’d always known and they made out like that, touching each other’s skin.

Derek’s hands wandered down over the sweatpants to take a tight grip on Stiles’ ass.

Stiles moaned into their mouths, and let Derek pull his hips forward until they were tight and hard against each other. He broke the kiss suddenly and panted into Derek’s ear: “You’re gonna make me come like that.”

“Not yet,” Derek said.

“Ok, well then stop it,” Stiles grinned and smacked Derek’s ass playfully.

“So bossy,” Derek replied with a smile, removing his hands and dropping little sweet kisses on Stiles’ mouth. Kisses Stiles would have never expected from the big tough Alpha. He’d thought it would be all possessive and dominance issues and fuck my prey into the mattress kind of stuff. Which Stiles had fantasized about several times. But this sweetness and tenderness somehow turned Derek from a fantasy into someone real. Someone that he could touch instead of just dream about, someone he could love instead of lust after.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Stiles said, as he grabbed Derek’s hand in his own and led them toward the bed. “I’m gonna be the naggiest ever. All: take out the trash, and wash the dishes, and did you walk the dog?”

“Stiles, I don’t have a dog,” Derek said straight faced as he followed along, letting Stiles lead.

Stiles turned when he reached the bed. “Maybe one day we’ll get a dog. You don’t know.”

“One day?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile threatening.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. Or a cat! What about a cat?”

“Werewolves and cats don’t really mix,” Derek replied. The hungry sparkle returned to his eye and he leaned in to lick at Stiles’ neck, hands wrapping around his ribcage on either side to hold him steady.

“That’s a shame, cats are cool,” Stiles said, “but a dog would be good too. He could run with the pack.”

Derek laughed, and pulled back, grinning wide. “You’re going to talk through this whole thing aren’t you?”

“You love it,” Stiles said. “Now, it’s my turn.” He leaned forward and took Derek’s earlobe into his mouth, sucking gently before he started trailing kisses down his neck toward his collarbone.

“I do,” Derek breathed, his muscles relaxing with every press of Stiles’ lips to his skin.

“You do what?” Stiles asked between one kiss and the next, hunching over a little to move lower.

“I love it when you talk,” Derek said, “all the babbling and the random stuff you come out with. It’s adorable.”

Stiles straightened up and slapped Derek’s chest playfully. “What in the hell?” He laughed, slapping him lightly again.

“What?” Derek asked, gathering Stiles’ hands into his own and wrestling a little with him over it.

“You acted like it was the most annoying thing in the world for the past two years!” Stiles said through his laughter. “You are the worst! Was that you pulling my pigtails to let me know you liked me?”

Derek smiled shyly, and pulled Stiles’ hands up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles in such a tender gesture that Stiles thought his heart might stop, and the laughter died on his lips.

“I’m not very good at this… kind of stuff,” Derek admitted. “But I’d like to try to get better.”

“Awesome! I am so down for helping you with that,” Stiles said. “So how about… naked?”

Derek laughed and kissed Stiles’ knuckles again before they stepped back from each other and let their sweatpants fall to the floor.

Stiles flopped down onto the bed first and looked back at Derek. “Holy shit,” he exhaled.

“What?” Derek asked as he put a knee on the bed. “Are you ok? Your heart rate just increased… a lot.”

“Of course it did dude! We’re naked in the same room together!” Stiles exclaimed. “Sexy times are going to happen. I’m gonna get sexed. _We’re_ gonna get sexed. We’re gonna sex.”

Derek laughed and crawled up the bed, flopping down next to Stiles instead of crawling over him in the predatory way Stiles had been expecting.

Stiles was so hard he thought his body might be malfunctioning, it was almost painful. He rolled on his side to face Derek, and even the shifting of his dick with gravity caused a humming sensation to travel up his spine and make him shiver.

“I have to warn you,” Stiles said, “that unfortunately with all this build up, and the whole… virginity thing. This is not going to be a… long show.”

Derek ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, down his cheek, until the palm was resting hot and heavy on the side of his throat, the fingers tickling at the back of his neck and causing even more excitement to gather inside his body. A body that was already overfull with excitement.

“It’s ok Stiles,” Derek soothed. “We’ve got all the time in the world to try it over and over again.”

“What are we… I mean… you know the whole… virgin thing… and I’ve been into guys. I’ve watched a lot of porn. But what… how did you want to…”

Derek smiled. “I’ve never actually been with a guy before,” he admitted. “I haven’t been with many people at all. But I think we should just… keep it simple?”

“Simple,” Stiles exhaled, and then narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean exactly?”

“Always with the specifics,” Derek said, “can’t just roll with the punches?”

“Ok, first: I’m definitely not into punching with my sex. I know that without even trying it. Second: it’s the researcher in me, what can I tell you? Details are very important.”

Derek kissed his lips softly. “I was thinking just hands today.”

“Hands are good,” Stiles said, “I like your hands. Like a lot. They have featured in many of my fantasies. Fantasies that, if I talk about them right now, will make me come immediately. So let’s just-” With no more warning or discussion, Stiles planted a hand on Derek’s chest and pushed him back. Derek yielded gently and rolled onto his back, spreading his legs in invitation as Stiles rolled on top of him and settled between.

Their bodies rubbed together, Stiles' cock touching hot skin, and he closed his eyes and breathed deep. “Oh my god this is going to be the quickest sexual encounter of all time. Unless we count all the sexual tension that led up to it, which I would like to so I don’t feel as embarrassed about this.”

“The sooner we finish the first time, we can move onto the second time,” Derek said.

Stiles opened his eyes and looked down. Derek Hale was spread out underneath him with that beautiful smile on his face, his hair dishevelled, his body naked. Stiles shuddered, and felt an embarrassing amount of precome drip onto Derek’s stomach.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” tripped out of Stiles’ mouth on repeat.

“Why don’t we…” Derek put his hands on Stiles’ chest and slid them down slowly. One hand grabbed Stiles’ hip and moved him until their bodies were lined up, the other hand wrapped around both of them at once.

Stiles let his head hang down and looked between them at the obscene sight: Derek’s large, beautiful hand wrapped around both of their dicks.

“Derek, you’re touching my dick,” Stiles panted.

“I’m aware,” Derek replied sarcastically, but a little breathless.

And then Derek’s hand started to move, his grip loose, using the precome to ease the slow strokes.

“Someone else is touching my dick,” Stiles groaned out. “Someone not me is touching my dick and it’s - Derek!” He came just like that, after only a few strokes of Derek’s strong beautiful fingers.

He knew his o-face was embarrassing; he’d actually seen it in the mirror in the bathroom a few times. Eyebrows making shapes he’d never been able to replicate without an orgasm, his mouth hanging loose and open, sometimes drool slipping from the corner. It was not a dignified or sexy face. Once his muscles stopped seizing, he moved to tuck his face into Derek’s neck and prepared to be embarrassed.

Derek stopped him, a hand on either side of his face, and pulled him in for a hard kiss. Stiles’ lips were still loose and useless as his body tried to figure out how to work again. Derek licked into his mouth as though Stiles was the sexiest thing since Victoria’s Secret invented Angels.

When Derek broke off he was groaning. “Stiles,” he hissed out.

“Your turn,” Stiles said, his brain finally realizing that he needed to fulfill his side of this sexy times situation. He slid off of Derek, curling into his side. Derek whined at the loss of the body covering him, but wrapped an arm around Stiles.

Stiles slid his hand down through the mess of come on Derek’s stomach, wetting his palm with it before taking Derek in hand. He was so hard it was like stroking rebar. But like… THICK rebar. He watched as the foreskin, slick with Stiles’ come, slid back and forth, curling up over the head and back again. Stiles was mesmerized, and like always, his mouth started to run.

“God I can’t wait to blow you,” he said as he watched his hand increase slowly in speed with each pass. This, this he knew how to do. He’d done it himself a thousand times.

Derek twitched at the words, his hips thrusting a little into the grip.

“I wanna know what you taste like,” Stiles said, licking his lips.

Derek’s arm around him tightened, his hips thrust up hard, and he came with Stiles name slipping across his tongue all sloppy esses, catching hard on the t for only a second.

“God your mouth,” Derek groaned as Stiles continued to stroke him through the orgasm. Come continued to dribble out, and Stiles was determined to get it all, tightening his grip mercilessly at the top of each stroke.

“Bet you’re not so upset about the talking now, huh?” Stiles asked.

“God, enough, enough, I can’t-” Derek writhed in Stiles’ grip, and he gave one last punishing stroke before pulling his hand away and resting it in the mess on Derek’s stomach.

Stiles snuggled into Derek’s shoulder, resting his head there and closing his eyes. “Mmmm comfy,” he said contently. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“We can’t sleep like this,” Derek said. “I left a towel on the floor on that side, grab it.”

Stiles moaned and groaned but rolled away from Derek’s heat to grab a hand towel from the floor. It was even a little wet. Stiles wiped them down enough before he tossed it back on the floor. “Sleep now?” He asked.

“Sleep now,” Derek confirmed.

They climbed under the covers, Derek on his back, Stiles curled into his side with an arm and leg thrown over. “Sleep now,” Stiles said again, his voice fading, “and then more sex, right?”

“Right,” Derek confirmed.

“Maybe we’ll move on to mouths this time,” Stiles suggested, smiling against Derek’s skin.

The arm around him tightened and Derek groaned. “Don’t say shit like that right before I go to sleep, or I won’t be able to.”

“Just dream about my mouth,” Stiles said, grin getting wider.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he could hear the smile in it.

“Never.”

“Ok.”

And they drifted off happily to sleep.

Stiles was jostled awake.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice sounded urgent. “Stiles, wake up.”

“Wha?” Stiles sat up. In Derek’s bed. Naked. With Derek. Also Naked. “Wha’s goin’on?”

“The pack,” Derek said, looking toward the front door, the blankets pooling around his waist.

Before they could get out of bed, and even think about getting dressed, the grating sound of the loft door echoed across the room.

Stiles fell back into the bed and pulled the blankets up over his head.

Scott was talking before he was even through the door. “Hey Derek! Stiles didn’t make it home last night and- Woah.”

Stiles could only hear from under the blankets.

Derek sighed heavily, his body tense next to Stiles. They were found out, there was no denying it. But Stiles planned to live in denial as long as he could. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted to tell Scotty.

He looked over and saw the muscles in Derek’s leg twitch. There was a suddenly childish urge in him to pinch that skin and make Derek jump.

Before he could consider it for long, the blanket was pulled down over his face. Erica stared down at him, cocking her head to the side and smiling. Her long golden curls tickled his nose.

“Found him!” She said enthusiastically before winking at him and retreating from his line of sight.

Stiles sat up, holding the blanket up to his neck, and he could feel his skin turning the brightest shade of red it was capable of.

“Hey guys,” he said feebly, waving at Scott, Boyd, Issac and Erica. “Um. Fancy meeting you here?”

Boyd’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he just turned and walked out with a wave over his shoulder. Issac, grinning, followed in his wake.

“Good job bagging the twink Derek,” Erica laughed as she followed the boys.

“The twink?” Stiles asked, turning toward Derek. “Wait, I’m not a twink, am I?”

“Well…” Derek looked away.

They turned their attention back to Scott who was still glaring from the doorway.

“Hey Scotty, listen, I know what you’re going to say: you think that I was maybe drunk last night and did something I might regret, and that Derek took advantage of my inebriated state to get a big piece of this fine ass of mine. But really, I wasn’t drunk at all, I was only buzzed-” He could hear Derek’s eye roll. “And we didn’t do anything last night. It all happened this morning. Well… there was cuddling last night, but nothing more until this morning when we totally boned. And now we’re gonna like, try a relationship. So you don’t need to say anything dude, cause it’s all good.”

Scott sighed. “You’re right, I was going to say something like that. Except it was more like: what the hell Derek?”

Derek met Scott’s eye and tilted his head toward Stiles. “What he said.”

Stiles threw his arms around Derek. “Oh my man of many words.”

Derek’s arm found its way back around Stiles and pulled him close.

Scott pointed at Derek, still glaring. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t,” Derek replied earnestly.

Scott stared at them for another minute before he turned, slammed the door and left.

They fell back into the pillows together.

“What did I say about having your bed right in the middle of the living room? Awkward!” Stiles tickled at Derek’s stomach as he said it.

“Ok, ok,” Derek conceded with a laugh, grabbing Stiles’ hand and lacing their fingers together to stop him from tickling. “We’ll move it upstairs.”

Derek rolled to his side so they were facing each other. “Still think it’s a good thing we’ve got the pack?” He smiled and raised an eyebrow.

Stiles just nodded. Because suddenly he felt like he belonged. A warmth spread from his heart, and he squeezed Derek’s hand tighter as the emotions choked at him. He was part of the pack, and not just because he was with Derek. He’d been part of the pack all along and hadn’t been paying attention. Derek was just the cherry on top of the weird banana split his life had become.

“You ready for another round?” Derek asked, grinning predatorily.

“Oh my god yes,” Stiles choked out, letting Derek push _him_ back this time as they fumbled together and started to learn what it meant to belong somewhere and to someone.

**Author's Note:**

> I have NO idea where this fits in relation to ANYTHING... I just... it came out of my head this way.
> 
> I can tell you this:
> 
> \- Stiles just turned 18
> 
> \- Derek is alpha
> 
> \- Hale Pack is a thing (including Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Scott... and some humans)
> 
> \- Hale fire still happened
> 
> \- Derek/Kate happened
> 
> These are all the things I can tell you.
> 
> Also: I have a terrible habit of spelling Isaac's name wrong. Sorry if I missed any corrections.


End file.
